Meanwhile II

Mr. Stranger sits quietly at his desk...punching a keyboard. All these months of frenzied financial activity in the US has taken a toll on his health. He has been working extra hours for no extra reason. In the times of Global Meltdown, his mental breakdown was certain due to the extra pressure. Although he had managed to start working in a 9 to 5 pattern rather than 24 hour shifts, the sane work timings brought in more exposure to business hours and hence more stress. He has lost a lot of hair recently. Reluctantly he gets up to make himself a cup of some distasteful organic chinese tea. What prompted this decision was an article somewhere that he read about anti-oxidants in organic tea. While strolling lazily to the cafeteria, he was reminded of his last appraisal meeting. His Manager told him that although there was no complain about Mr. Stranger's work, his shabby dressing and lazy demeanor whilst walking around office was not a very exciting sight. Mr. Stranger straightens up and marches down the corridor to the cafeteria only to be called back in the next moment, someone from some other part of the world wants to speak to him. How the benefits of Organic Chinese Tea would never be felt.

Mungesh Rohan hadn't touched his guitar for some weeks now. His single room in a co-ed hostel arrangement in Amsterdam has failed to light up his life. The dirt inside his head troubles him so much that the unhygienic room conditions donot affect him anymore...or maybe he was always distanced from human hygiene. Charity begins at home...cleansing must begin at the head. In a bid to shed off some office stress, he shaved his head recently. But that, like so many other things in his life, has had only a temporary effect. The job is taking so much time and energy that his daily routine beyond office is getting affected. There is this urge to just quit...spend some time in oblivion. The money is good, but how better?

KhambaMan pours his last drink for the day. A plate of hot dal tadka and Jeera Rice await as the main course. The waiters at Govind Garden know this since that was the routine for quite a few weeks now. He thinks of better times spent in the past. A good salary and a better office donot gaurantee a better life. He is angry at this betrayal. He curses..lights up a cigarette and finishes the last one in one gulp. This was the most dramatic moment of his day. He pauses to think about it...only to order for another quarter and repeat the act. The stage is set. Dal Tadka and Jeera Rice can wait.

Taurav Siwari rides back from work. Its one traffic signal to another in a beautiful yet smoggy Pune evening. He recently experienced the biggest jolt of his life. The moment came like a raging Mumbai down-pour that lasts 10 mins...something that manages to drench everything under it within split-seconds and move on. He reaches the Resort and finds it empty. He knows where KhambaMan is. Also knows that Politburo must be also on his way back. A month ago, he would have joined KhambaMan for the 8 P.M. After the recent turn of events, he knows that any habit as such would only make things worse. He understands his friends...and wants to be there.

Bhai wakes up from his slumber. Its time to go to work. In an efficient routine, something that he has perfected over the months at the Resort, he gets ready to work without glitches. He takes the 9 am Metro to his workplace so that he is out by 5.30 pm. Life is peaceful. No more traffic signals. There is good Scotch Whisky at home which he sips leisurely after work; benefits to live among Englishmen. All day long his eyes pry for some new material to assimilate from the world of internet. The only time he felt lonely was when the Bollywood Big-wigs were having a strike against the Multiplex Owners Association causing an indefinite delay in new movie releases. His God was watching him during this time of peril; two movies of his favorite Cinemaman - Anurag Kashyap - were released back to back. What could be better. Maybe he will read about wonderful qualities of Organic Chinese Tea today.

Meanwhile Nedumpa and Shenon ride to another beach in Goa...

All in a cup of tea

Sharmaji sips his morning cup of tea..ciggarette in hand outside his office building. Its been a year and half since he has been following the same routine in the slick industrial area of Gurgaon. This is the ICICI building. He sees fresh faces joining the workforce..smoking their first hundred ciggerates with their first salaries..planning evenings then weekends at local pubs...together they represent the proletariat of new age India. The rupee is getting stronger...the salaries are rising higher...the sensex is doing better.. But all this does not matter to Sharmaji. He has been there done that. He does not want to be held together with the yuppy faces in front of him. He has lost his exuberant self longtime ago. This is not his kind of crowd...he remembers of a similar setting from his youthful times. He remembered a similar time with tea and ciggeratte in hand...days were spent in a shack outside his college campus. Oh they were wonderful times. There was a mishra, a pandey and a tripathi somewhere in the crowd. Sipping innumerable cups...thinking what the future would be like. There were limited pleasures, like the occasional beer from the money saved from the mess bill. And that one night that his hometown buddy Srivastav had managed to flick some biscuits from the Mess hall which lasted for an entire week in his bag. The two of them sharing 2 each at the midnight canteen tea. Those were the days. A year and a half back, he was working in Mumbai...the city that does not sleep...and it didnt let him either. He left it to find a cure for his insomnia. But the three months there with Pandeyji proved to be worthwhile. He has seen the dark sides of that city. He can proudly say - he has seen life. He remembers one of his numerous bus journeys back from work where the thin man sitting one seat ahead in the 351 ltd BEST bus talking to his unknown neighbour. Apparently the thin man's elder brother was an alcoholic. Thin man had to provide for his little 1 BHK household. The members - his aging parents, one alcoholic elder brother with family..and his own little family. How thin man wished to get away from his ordeal...get a better job with a better pay...but he was a low skilled workman. The thin man never could arrive at the possibility of leaving the city itself. But Sharmaji had chosen and that made him feel empowered. All this could have changed if the cute girl working in his office had complied to his advances. Destiny.

If it wasn't for this bright opportunity at Gurgaon...he too would have been left restless by the Mumbai madness. The yuppy faces in front of him don't know what life is. How nice it would be to have all his friends working in Gurgaon...such enjoyment...such possibilities.

Sharmaji takes his last puff of ciggeratte and dumps the remnants of his tea cup inside his mouth...nods at the shopowner..the bill will be cleared in the evening. Takes another look at the new joinees and heaves a sigh..and walks back to his office.

A cliche called Growing-Up

It was a summer vacation from school when we had a show called FUN TIME at 12 noon on TV. It was the most entertaining part of our summer day. It had cartoon shows and other serials that all the kids in my compound used to discuss about when we finished our evening mohalla cricket....sometimes the hangover used to last to the next day morning's session until it was replaced with the next highly awaited episode. Even the kids who wanted to play all day long in those hot suburb afternoons would retire to their TV sets for FUNTIME...some would be lucky to get out again at 1 pm after the show ended...but only to find a lack of quorum to have a decent game....they would play nevertheless. We finished that summer vacation and FUNTIME was on no.1 on all our lists to tell when we got back to school....suprisingly it made it to everyone's list back at school...except a Sathish who had to go to Guntur for his vacation and didnt have anybody to inform him about the show...also probably Vidya since she was the class topper and it was not expected that she watch TV...she had to complete the coming year's syllabus to top again... 3 months passed by..the Quarterly exams happened...and then the mid semesters and then the Diwali Vacations came over....many of us prayed for the show to return....some even spread the rumours that it will start again....everyone was posted about these events till the school closed. The show didnt start....it was rumored that many schools havent closed down yet for vacations and the show will only start once all the kids have a vacation running...but a week later we were more interested to choose our crackers from a limited budget that our parents had allocated. Soon the school reopened and the other semester also ended....and now the expectations were high....we all needed this show to make the vacation memorable. I used to switch on the TV set everyday at arnd 12....but only to find the 'machchar' screen....dots of black and white...no transmission...Doordarshan no longer wanted entertained us. We learned to live with it. ........................... Around Ten years later....we were in college....pursuing a Professional Course...hardly knowing what it all meant.. yes we had dreams...we were taught to dream in school....not many learnt...but I did...a few that I know also did... We dreamt it all.....the anger, the hatred, the happiness, the lows and the highs...the life....some of us even dreamt about peace. These were all just dreams...or in a very Pirsig way - ghosts - that we were trying to chase. Ideas that fancied our senses....sold to us in a beautiful package by the media, the institutions of whatever....the system. And we bought it all....not knowing completely about it....some of us still continue to buy it. It is required that this trade goes on, this is what the system has to offer..and unless there are takers, the system would collapse. When Tyler Durden ran around with his Project Mayhem to start his own small revolution....his answer to the apathy of millions of adults dead in their ROUTINE life.....we were the first ones to talk for it....to justify it....it was our own personal victory over the system. This was just the start....I didnt know what we were getting into... We watched the men of Rock n Roll live their lives in the fast lane...followed every detail in awe....we read about the people who tried to do things differently...and stood out after they died. We watched Vivid, MilfHunter and NaughtyAmerica to know what a woman could do, to believe how great an orgasm could be....we watched them all.....just to get an idea of what sex is all about....dreaming for a day when the on screen action would occur. And then one day....we no longer were in college. We were successful to become part of a much bigger..organised....complex...monstrous SYSTEM. It had a friend called ROUTINE. We thought we had an idea of what it would feel like...to work in 9 to 5 job for 5 days....looking forward for the weekend. We were wrong. We didnt have a gig like the Europe tour of the Doors, we didnt fight out our dislike for the Monster called Routine, and the women never came.... The complains started within a fortnight....but it took a long 2 years to come to a point where I could understand fully that this is not going to change, start making my way in this scheme of things. AsExplainedbyaJunkie was correct to elucidate that this very period is called Growing Up when an amateur starts to come to terms with his situation....and understands fully...his scope, his limitations and starts shifting gears accordingly. Dylan said that a lot of things exist and will continue to exist irrespective of his liking. And he wishes to simply acknowledge this fact. All the children finished school with beautiful memories despite being let down by Doordarshan during one summer vacation....

Dil Harey Blues..

morning....8.30 am... occasional footsteps from the bathroom to some room on some side of my room... i think its 8.15 pm...reason to believe since people in my wing r still struggling to get to the first class....the Electrical dept... i wake up any way... a look outside the window....hall 5 -- compu wing...1 st floor....calm doors... signs that the whole wing has been abandoned...the last of the mammoth sleeps comfortably...he's confident that the ice age aint coming today....jitu.... my bottle of water.....it needs a refill...look around my room...last nite was just like the night before.. which was very similar to the one before that...only...if i try hard...i can distinctly differentiateon the basis of the no. of packets of 20/- or 25/- that came in... walk out my door....sleepy...tired... too much tar in my lungs to carry....but too less to get me sick... deserted wing...not a soul.....i feel great... in front of me....a room that has its windows always open...the fan always running..which in turnhas been competing with the mr.tubelight who has been bright since his first spark.. yes it belongs to harish mohan...i can visualise him....lying inside there...the bed always on teh ground... no quilt required...no pillow....the door is ajar....wallet lying beside the toothpaste...the toothpaste which has been used by all the reddys in the gulti family....a soap....just one..for all practical purposes...i change my direction.. down....below...outside the boundary wall of hall 5....babloo walks to the mess....we exchange greetings... around the same time...anna rises from his slumber...so does manas...and jitu... probably jitu didnt sleep... somewhere in hall 4...another mishtiwala is getting worried cos he sees shatru coming..pandemonium attack... time -- 9 am.. ppl banging on haria's door....only possibility...roshan...wants to go to class with haria... at first...harish is not enthusiastic...later...agrees..... i have my quickie with the last nite's remains in a newspaper...if i search harder...might even find remains of the night before...or even a month before.... neway...i m happy.. ghosh da is here.. anmol has risen.. sweets and mutton shingara for all..my heaviest meal of the day is done.. one book, one pen, room keys, cell phone...off to class.. eyes wide open as an owl...body as tired as Gandav's horse stoned on pot for 6 months...stare at the board...in class..and then at a girl's back...justice needs to be done..to everything..she's pretty... neway...10.15....next class...need of attendance in question..which depends on the urgency of getting to jhups..and..the no. of class attended previously..which always is low... 10.15 or 11.15..all the same....12.15 is different.. any way...swing to 11.15....happy...the day is over...lotsa things to look out for now.. at first...canteen....i can see the regular public out there....rathi sitting on one bench alone..soni and ashish meandering here and tehre....still sweating out last nites Rum... jyoti and his sidekicks...alongwith arjun and his sidekicks.....2 groups...one mission.....Students' union....amazing thought..arun singh walks in with a muse....mostly vinay singh...cracks some fart....lots of laughs... around this time...my limited words with rathi are exchanged......my time at canteen is done.. bhau, robin, sashi, satna, khan....all gearing up to move to jhups...saxena is already sitting there..tiwari, pandey, chandra..,marching too.. manas,shonkho and haria were just here....as usual haria has to go to the bank...some fuckin token no.... always the same shit.. manas swears at him...shonkho laughs ...they walk away....... enter....jhups... ppl walking out of the college gate...ppl staring at those walking out...from each of the jhups.. this piece of shit...prashantda...the first jhups...stares like a hungry fox... waiting for some1 new tojoin his jhups... we walk on....narru da.... walk on..shani....ppl great shani --aur malik kya haal hai?? aur shani..kya chal raha hai?? ....all the same questions...all answers are same...yet sound unique.. shatru has been sitting there for the past 2 hrs....catching hold of everybody by the neck.. finally...his prime muse arrives from the bank....he jumps with joy....half way outside the jhups...with his plate of chix in hand....carefully...always in the shadow... few of us have had anything since morning....few have had the luxuries of sweets and singaras... all are equally hungry...shani gives all.... cigerettes being lit by the second....FC,SC...etc.etc...burning ones being thrown around...shani's brother- Jeet - running around getting packs of goldflake and navy cut from here and there.. some gestures here and there....we move out...jitu's room.... haria walks on towards gandhi more...alongwith shatru...little does he know that he wont comeback before 5 beers at pathik...next day...again wait for his token..manas, jitu and me....happy....last nites remains shall last until dusk...more people join...celebration....!!